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I sat up and brushed leaves off my skirt. My fingers snagged on a tear a couple of hands up from the hem. The gods only knew when I tore it and how. Pants like Zared's would have been so much more practical, or the leather ones worn by the Fae. I bet those didn't get torn on anything, and the way they clung to their muscular thighs…
I shook my head slightly. Best not let my mind wander off in that direction.
"Here." Ryze pulled a knife out of his boot and offered it to me, hilt first.
I stared at the blade, then at him.
"You might as well make it shorter. A skirt that long will do nothing but slow us down."
I hesitated for a moment before I took the knife and sliced at the fabric around the tear. It was thick, but the knife was sharp. It slid through the cotton like it was butter.
"Do you want me to do the back?" he offered. "Wouldn't want it to be uneven."
I glanced up from my cutting. He looked amused for some reason.
“I suppose so.” I handed the knife back, stood and turned around. I waited to feel the blade slide between my shoulderblades.
He merely crouched down behind me and carefully sliced away the back of my skirt. His fingers brushed against the back of my knee.
Warmth surged all the way through me. My heart started to race.
He ran the back of his knuckles up the inside of my leg, halfway up my thigh, pushing my skirt up higher.
I struggled to contain my trembling. It was no more than the slightest touch, but it sent waves of scalding heat through my body. Flames crackled through me, threatening to set all of me on fire, to consume me down to ash and bones.
When he finally lowered his hand away and cut the rest of the cotton I felt bereft, empty. As if he burned a path through me before leaving the ground cold without a footstep treading there.
I felt desire before, but that was nothing like this. This threatened to swallow me whole.
When he rose, I turned but couldn't meet his eye. Had he felt what I felt?
Gods, I told myself,he's Fae.
"Did it take you long?" he asked as he put his knife back into its sheath on his boot. He glanced up at me sideways. "To learn hand language? I imagine it takes some time."
I nodded, then spoke and signed at the same time. "Yes."
He signed back, the same gesture. "This is yes?"
I nodded again, then signed something else. "This is no."
"Is there a sign for fuck off?" Vayne asked.
Ryze smirked at him. "In case you're curious, yes, he's always so cheerful."
I smiled and stuck my middle finger up at Vayne.
He grunted and did it back to me. "That's the same in Fae. More or less."
"Some things are universal," Ryze said. "Except sticking up your little finger at a griffin. Don't do that, they get really offended."
Vayne shook his head at him. "The great Ryzellius, the only Fae I know who knows a way to offend a griffin."
Ryze bowed. "Go ahead and mock me, until you meet a griffin and stick your little finger up at it. Then I'll be the one laughing."
"What happens?" I couldn't help asking, in spite of the fact I suspected it was all bullshit.
"They spit in your face," Ryze said. "Trust me, you do not want griffin spit on your skin. It burns like a bitch."
